


Dare I Weep, Dare I Mourn

by hayj



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, multiple character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayj/pseuds/hayj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, when I added the word Epidemic to the 60 moods of Summer board, I had two ideas floating around in my head. This is one, "A Delicate Truth" is the other. </p><p>Prompts: Epidemic, aftermath, kiss, sleep, forbidden, beginnings, abandoned, exhale, bare, barefoot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare I Weep, Dare I Mourn

The outbreak happened suddenly and unexpectedly, as most outbreaks do. 

 

Connor was one of the first stricken down. 

 

From what, they had no idea, nor would they ever. Not that it mattered.  

 

They lost him in the first wave.

 

Charlie stayed with them for as long as Bass would let her until he finally, calmly, asked her to get the fuck out so that he could say goodbye to his son. 

 

When he stumbled out of the room and pulled her to him, she had been surprised, but recovered quickly, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck with a sob. She didn’t offer him false platitudes, simply held him as he cried, her own tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt as she smoothed her hands over his back. When he pulled away, she wiped at his tears with her thumbs until he caught her hands, bringing them to his mouth as he struggled to find his voice.

 

“I’ll dig his grave at the cemetery. I want to be able to visit, not just bury him in a field that I can’t remember how to get to.” 

 

His words caused a fresh flood of tears to flow down Charlie’s face as she thought of all the graves that lay behind her. “I’ll get him ready,” she managed to choke out.

 

Shoulders slumped, Bass shuffled past her, feeling every one of his forty-seven years.   

 

Returning to the room, Charlie stood at the door looking over the body of his dead son. 

 

Once she had forgiven Connor for walking out on Bass and siding with Tom Neville, they had become good friends. 

 

Before he lost consciousness, he had asked for her, making her promise that she wouldn’t let his dad grieve to death. His words still echoed in her head. 

 

_ “I know you love him Charlie, you have for a long time.”  _

 

_ “That’s the fever talking,” she had replied, mopping his brow. _

 

_ “Promise me,” he whispered, forcing her to look him in the eye, “promise me you won’t let him die with me.”  _

 

_ With a quick nod of her head and a squeeze of his hand, she promised.  _

 

 

  
Gene was there with the wagon when Bass returned, dirt smudged on his cheek and under his nails.  

 

Charlie was standing, looking out the window, when Bass entered the room once again. “It's time to go,” he told her, voice hollow in a way she’d never heard. 

 

She turned, watching as he paused for a moment before picking up the white shroud that contained the body of his last living family member. His only son.

 

It was eerily quiet as they made their way down the stairs and out the door to the waiting wagon. Gene looked horrible as he sat slumped over the reins, waiting for them to load Connors body and to climb on board. Charlie made sure that Bass was settled before joining her grandpa on the bench, taking the reins away from him as she set the horses in motion. 

 

There were several men from town milling around with shovels when they arrived. Charlie recognized most of them as men that Connor shared his wall shift with. 

 

Helping her Grandpa down, she and Gene followed Bass over to the open trench where, with the help of the other men, Connors body was lowered. When Bass was unable to, Charlie gave the signal for the men to start filling in the grave, taking a step forward to slip her hand into his, grabbing onto his forearm when he pulled her forward to stand with him. 

 

When the grave was filled, Charlie thanked the men for their help giving Bass a few moments to himself.  By the time she turned back around, Gene was holding a gun on Bass as the two men stared each other down.

 

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked, moving to stand between the two men.

 

“He can’t leave, Charlie. There’s a chance he’s been infected.” 

 

“Bass isn't going anywhere, are you?” she asked turning to look at Bass, just now noticing the packed duffel bag at his feet. 

 

“It’s actually better this way,” Bass said, dropping to his knees in the damp earth, “I can be buried beside him instead of just being dumped in a ditch somewhere. Get out of the way, Charlie,” Bass ordered one last time, setting his eyes on the gun with a finality that terrified her.  

 

“Put the gun up, Grandpa,” Charlie demanded with disgust. "Bass isn’t going anywhere. Go to the wagon and we’ll be along shortly.” 

 

Charlie waited as Gene hobbled over to the wagon, putting the gun away but keeping watch all the same.

Dropping to her knees in front of him, Charlie took Bass’ face between her palms scanning him with her eyes, before leaning forward and kissing him. The fingers of one hand tangled in his unkempt curls, while the other wrapped around him, keeping him close. She stole his breath when he kissed her back, a hand on her back, pushing her against him as the other gripped the hair at the base of her neck painfully.

 

When he broke the kiss and pulled away to look at her, his eyes full of emotions she didn’t dare name, Charlie licked her lips. “You’re not alone, Bass. I’m still here and I’ll never leave you,” she said, drawing an ugly sob from him as he twisted his head away from her. 

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Charlie. Miles...”

 

“Miles is a fucking idiot,” Charlie breathed against his cheek. “Everyone leaves us, Bass, but you and I, we’re still here. I promise to stay and fight by your side as long as you’ll have me,” she vowed. 

 

When he slowly nodded his head, Charlie nearly collapsed in relief. Getting to his feet, Bass helped her up, kissing her again, his fingers bruising her hip, despite the muttering he heard from Gene.  Picking up his bag, he walked to the wagon with her, just as Gene collapsed next to the wagon clutching his chest. 

 

“Bass, help me!” Charlie cried as she tried to catch him on his way down. 

 

He was dead by the time he hit the ground.

 

This time, it was Bass holding her hand as Gene was laid to rest next to Connor.

* * *

 

They were sleeping in her bed two nights later when Bass’ thrashing woke her.  She knew he had bad dreams. They’d spent enough time together on the road that she even knew what they sounded like, but this was different. Murmuring his name, she rolled over to shake him, hoping they could both get back to sleep, only to jerk her hand back with a hiss. 

His skin was scorching. 

“No, no, no!” she mumbled to herself as she scrambled out of bed, searching for her tank top and panties. Sliding them on, she lit the lantern sitting on the dresser and turned to look at him. He was drenched in sweat, his skin pasty white, yet his cheeks rosy with fever. "I am not losing you, too!" she nearly shouted as she  hurried downstairs to Gene's exam room. 

Before she had left to go to Connor, Gene had told her that he was almost ready to try his new salt and sugar solution.  Rushing to his work bench, she found dozens of filled IV bottles. “Please let this work,” she breathed, grabbing a bottle along with the tubing and needles he had laying nearby. 

Returning to her room, she set everything on the dresser. Moving her basin of water to the bedside table, she turned the sheet down to his waist, taking a few minutes to run a cloth dipped in the room temperature water over his body. 

Bass gravitated towards the coolness, his eyes opening to mere slits. “Charlie?” 

“I’m here," she answered, grabbing a glass of water before  helping him sit up enough to drink.

Bass gulped greedily at the water, before pushing her away. “Just Let me go Charlie. I’ll finally be with my family,” he whispered, eyes bright with fever as she put the glass down. 

“No!” she whispered, grabbing the back of his neck, listening to him moan as her cool fingers lay against his heated skin; and although she knew it was wrong to use her own pain to make him stay, the words came tumbling out anyway. “Everyone leaves me, Bass. Please, don’t you leave me, too. I can forgive you anything but that.” 

“I’m just so tired,” he said with a ragged breath as she laid him back on the bed, running a cool cloth over his forehead. 

“Then rest, Bass. I’ve got you,” she whispered close to his ear. 

When his eyes fluttered shut, Charlie allowed herself a shaky sigh before getting back to work. Attaching the tubing to IV bottle, she hung the bottle to a nail in the wall as she sat on the bed and laid Bass’ arm over her lap. Pouring whisky over the needle, she pushed it into his vein, her stomach revolting as she did so. With deep breaths, she tied a strip of cloth around the site to hold it steady. If he began to thrash again, she’d have to tie him down. Placing his arm gently beside him, she brushed her lips against his forehead.

She kept herself busy, making a vegetable broth that she fed him every time he woke, hauling cool water from the well, boiling some of it for him to drink and using the rest to soothe his heated skin. She kept a close eye on the IV bottle, replacing it six times that first day. She worried, not knowing if it was enough, having had helped him with the bedpan precious few times when he was awake. 

By the time the sun went down, Charlie was exhausted. Climbing into bed beside him, she was asleep almost instantly. 

It was sometime later when he screamed a woman’s name. Charlie didn't know who she was nor did it matter. Pushing to her knees, she reached out to where he was sitting up, looking around wildly. 

“I’m here, Bass, I’m here,’ she soothed, as he gasped and pulled her to him. 

“I had a dream that you died,” he cried as he clutched her to him, “you and the baby!"

A cold hand clenched around Charlie’s heart at the revelation as she sucked in a breath. “No, no, we’re fine, Bass, both of us, but you’ve been sick. I need you to stay still so I can take care of you.”

“Sick?” he asked, his brow dipping down as he tried to puzzle it out.

“Very sick,” Charlie crooned as she guided his arm down to his side. 

“You’ll stay with me?” he asked, reaching out to grasp her hand. 

“Always,” Charlie whispered, brushing her lips against his. Getting out of bed, she changed his IV again, and spoon fed him some broth. When he dozed off, she sat everything aside and climbed back in bed with him. 

“Come closer,” Bass whispered, rolling onto his side. “I want to hold you both,” he murmured draping his hand with the IV over her waist to rest on her belly. “Love you, Shel,” he mumbled against her neck. 

Charlie swallowed heavily as she placed her hand over his. 

The next day and the day after were much the same, with Bass slipping in and out of the present and the past when he was awake. In her exhaustion, she answered a question the wrong way, biting her lip as she turned to look at him. 

“How do you know about that?’ he demanded weakly, looking at her through worn down eyes. 

“You’ve been talking in your sleep," she told him as she went back to what she was doing.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, “she was my wife. Died in childbirth, taking our daughter with her.” 

“It’s okay, Bass. You didn’t make me any promises.”

“No. Waited too long to do that.” 

Charlie bowed her head, pressing a fist to her mouth before turning back to face him. “The only thing you need to worry about is getting better.” 

“You’ll stay?” he asked. 

“As long as you’ll have me,” she replied. 

It was only when he was asleep that she allowed herself to cry.

* * *

 

Later that evening, she sat propped up against the headboard with Bass’ head in her lap, carding her fingers through his hair despondently as she stared out the window, dozing on and off. He wasn’t getting any better, but at least he wasn’t getting worse. They were almost out of the IV solution though and Charlie had no idea what her Grandpa had used to prepare it.

The sound of booted feet coming towards her jerked Charlie from her sleep as a large cool hand covered her own. Her eyes fluttered closed at his presence. 

“Miles."

“How are you?” he asked, leaning over to press his warm lips against her forehead as he kneeled next to the bed.

“I’m fine. Everyone else, not so much,” she replied, her throat dry and scratchy. “Where’s Mom?” she asked, not hearing anyone else in the house.

Miles opened and closed his mouth as he shook his head, finally finding the words. “We were halfway to Austin when she got sick.” 

“Everyone’s gone then,” Charlie whispered as she looked down at Bass. 

Miles took a good look at Bass lying across Charlie’s bare legs. “Gene?” 

“Heart attack the day we buried Connor.” 

Miles ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck. How long?” he asked, nodding down at Bass. 

“Three days now.” 

“You’re exhausted, Charlie. Go get some sleep. I’ll keep watch,” Miles said as he reached out to cup her cheek. 

Charlie couldn’t help rubbing against his hand. “Come get me when It’s time to change the bottle, or if he starts asking for Shelly,” she instructed as he helped her move Bass to the middle of the bed.  

“Shelly?” he asked with a sick feeling in his stomach. 

Charlie nodded, the dark skin under her eyes glowing like bruises in the dim light of the lamp. “He’s been asking for her and the baby whenever his fever spikes.”

Pulling her into his arms, Miles held her, his hand cupping the back of her head as he buried his nose in her hair. “I love you, Charlie,” he whispered, peppering kisses over the side of her face. 

“I love you, too, Miles,” she cried, pulling away as she rushed out of the room.

* * *

 

Hours later, long after Charlie's muffled sobs had quieted and Miles had covered her, Bass began to stir.

Miles watched as he patted the bed beside him. “Charlie?” he called out weakly, his eyes opening to the barest slits. 

“Charlie’s sleeping,” Miles answered softly as he settled on the edge of the bed beside him.  

“Miles?” Bass breathed, reaching out for him. 

“I’m here, Bass,” Miles replied, taking his hand in his. 

“Charlie won’t let me die,” he whispered. 

Miles snorted at the battle of wills that must have taken place over the last week, “Good, cause I won’t let you die either.”

“You don’t care if I die.” 

Reaching out, Miles grasped Bass’ face in his hands. “If you die, I’m dying with you.”

Bass’ chin began to quiver as he looked into Miles eyes. “You’re an asshole.” 

Running his thumbs across his cheekbones, Miles leaned in pressing his lips to Bass’. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.” 

When they broke the kiss, Bass reached out, tracing Miles lips with his fingers. “There’s nothing left for me here, Miles.”

“There’s me and there's Charlie. I know you love her, Bass. I love her, too. I tried giving it a go with Rachel, pushing you both away, but it was never the same. It was never the same as it was with you. Like it could be with Charlie.”

A noise at the door caught their attention and Miles watched as Bass' eyes softened at the sight of her. “You left me.” 

“No, I didn’t,” she said, coming over to check on his IV. “I was in the other room sleeping.” 

“You okay?” Bass asked, catching her hand.  

“Confused and too tired to figure it out,” she answered honestly, glancing at Miles.

“Then come to bed."

Charlie wrinkled her nose as she shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t really feel like waking up next to a dead man.”

“Not gonna die,” Bass said roughly as he looked at Miles, causing Charlie to smile.

“All that, is he?” 

“And more,” Bass replied, looking up at her, willing her to understand.

* * *

 

This time when Bass called out in his sleep, it was for Miles.

As Charlie lay quietly, listening to Miles soothe him, she felt his hand reach out and stroke her leg. 

Rolling over to see if he needed her help, the first thing she noticed was his crooked smile.

“Charlie, feel,” he said with a nod at Bass’ head. 

Placing her hand on Bass’ forehead, Charlie’s face shattered as she realized his fever had broken. Rolling away from them, she covered her face with her hands as she began to cry. 

Walking around to her side of the bed, Miles knelt beside her stroking her hair. 

“I think I’ve cried more this week than I have my entire life,” she sniffed, trying to slow the tears as she lifted up the bottom of her shirt to wipe her face. 

Taking advantage of the situation, Miles reached out to run his fingers over her smooth belly, admiring the expanse of pale skin. “Charlie, Blanchard’s looking for someone to start up the Monroe Republic again.”

Charlie shook her head as she grabbed his hand, “Miles, no. Being President drove him crazy. We can’t do that to him. I won’t do that to him.” 

“Charlie, calm down. It’s going to be different this time, for a lot of different reasons, but mainly because this time we have you,” Miles promised.

“And?” Charlie asked with a heavy sigh, interlacing her fingers with his. 

“And we’ll figure it out as we go along.”   

* * *

 

“Are you sure you’re ready to travel?” Miles asked Bass as they finished readying the horses.

“I’m fine, Miles, but you won’t be if you don’t stop hovering,” Bass growled as he adjusted his horse's cinch. 

Miles rolled his eyes, moving over to retie Charlie’s pack. 

“Come on you two, let's get movin’,” Bass grumbled as he lowered his stirrup. 

“Somebody’s cranky,” Charlie sing-songed behind him only to find herself pushed up against her horse.  

“No, somebody’s fucking horny because he had two harpies telling him he needed to rest last night!” Bass exclaimed as he ran a hand through her hair, tilting her head so he could suck on that little spot just behind her ear that he hadn’t spent nearly enough time exploring.

Charlie moaned, her knees going weak as Miles head popped up over her saddle. 

“Oh, for God's sakes, Bass, it was one night. When we get to Austin I’ll let you fuck my brains out, okay? Just get on the goddamn horse,” Miles barked.

“It’s not your brains I’m worried about,” Bass shot back, reaching down to cup Charlie’s cheek, tilting her face up so that he could kiss her.  “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“You’re both idiots, you know that right?” she asked with a smile. 

“Yeah, but we’re your idiots,” he grinned, turning away to mount his horse leaving her to do the same. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments are love


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